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“Much better, thank you.” It’s the truth. About twice a year, I have a really rough start to my period, like last night. But after that part’s done, I always feel better.
“Maybe you should take the day off.” His green eyes finally lock onto mine. “Soak in the hot tub or something for a while. There’s, uh, chocolate in the pantry, but if you want something else I can go get it for you.”
My stomach flip-flops and I smile at him. This version of Dimitri pulls at my heartstrings, and I have no clue what to do with him.
“I’m better now, I promise.”
He steps closer, his awkwardness suddenly gone. When he’s towering over me, he finally pauses, his fingertips sweeping my hair out of my face. It’s a gesture he does frequently. One I usually recoil from. But not today.
He drops into the chair next to mine, then wraps his arm around my waist, transferring me to his lap. I gasp at how easily he can pick me up, like I’m a doll, practically weightless.
“I can make you feel even better than I did last night, if you’ll let me.” He brushes my hair behind my ear. “Come on my fingers, kisa. Please.” His other hand dips between my thighs, brushing against my clit.
My cheeks flame. I grip his wrist, intending to shove his hand away, but I simply hold onto him while he rubs me through the fabric of my leggings. Is it him saying please that makes me hesitate, or the fact that this feels so good?
He applies more pressure, and I sharply inhale, his spicy cologne invading my senses. I don’t know how, but I’m so close already.
When I squirm in his lap, he works my clit faster, his movements deliberate, rapidly sending me closer to an orgasm. Holy, God, how can this be so wrong when it feels so right? I try not to give that much thought, instead losing myself in the moment.
My head falls back against Dimitri’s shoulder and my back arches. An orgasm sweeps through me with so much intensity that my whole body shakes.
“Oh, God!” I moan, quaking in Dimitri’s arms as he continues to stroke me. Once the tremors stop, and I fully realize what just happened, my entire face grows hot. “I?—”
Dimitri places a finger across my lips. “Shh, kisa. Just relax. I won’t demand anything more from you right now. I just wanted to make you feel good.”
My gaze clashes with his, and I can only describe what I see in his eyes as hunger. He’s holding himself back and we both know it.
I shift in his lap, and he hisses. That’s when I notice his hard length pressed against my back. He rolls his hips, the movement small. My eyes grow wide. He feels… huge, long and thick. I didn’t think my face could feel any warmer, but it does. I’m burning up.
Without a word, Dimitri lifts me up and sets me back in my own chair. He studies me for a moment. I’m not sure what he’s looking for. I’ve barely reacted to what transpired between us. I think I’m still in shock.
His gaze does one final sweep over my features, then he takes his bowl and retreats from the kitchen, leaving me to stare after him.
What just happened? Did I really come for my captor, on his lap, in the middle of the wide open kitchen? Oh my god, what’s wrong with me? I should have stopped him, I could have at any point, but I didn’t.
I expect shame to consume me, like it did after he spanked me on piano bench, but this time it’s absent. All I feel is… good. Great. My muscles are like jelly, my skin buzzing with post-orgasmic bliss.
I’m even finding it difficult to figure out what’s so wrong with feeling this good. Of course I’ve touched myself before, but it’s never felt the same as what he just did.
Would it really be so bad to experience more of this kind of pleasure? Willingly?
God, I can only imagine what he’d do to my body if I let him. More heat floods my cheeks as I think about that. How his rough, strong hands would roam over every inch of my body. How it might feel to be naked in his arms, skin to skin. Would he make me come over and over again until I’m satiated?
I shake my head at myself. Am I really toying with the idea of giving into him?
That’s a terrible idea.
Shakily, I drain the rest of my tea, ready to head into the library to work—and hopefully clear my head of Dimitri Kozlov—when Nina appears with an armful of blue hydrangeas and sets them in the sink. Thankfully she didn’t show up any earlier or she would have gotten a shock.
Reckless, that’s what that was.
“Good morning, Mrs. Kozlov.”
I grimace slightly at that name, certainly not feeling like I’m married, especially to him. “Good morning, Nina. What pretty flowers.”
She swipes the vase of wilted forget-me-nots from the table, and mumbles, “I’m sorry these weren’t replaced sooner, ma’am.”
“It’s fine, Nina. Really.” I recall how the many vases around the mansion are always filled with fresh-cut flowers. “Dimitri really has a thing for blue flowers, doesn’t he?”
